


Wonder

by QueenCorbeau



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Not currently working on it, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-21 15:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14288130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCorbeau/pseuds/QueenCorbeau
Summary: One by one, the lights in Hermione's soul sputter and die as she maintains a relationship with someone with whom she never thought she could even get along. In the end, her salvation comes from an even more unexpected source, causing the long-dead flames to flare back to life. LM/HG, leading to MM/HG. Loosely based on Christina Perri's Jar of Hearts.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. The characters and settings belong to JKR and those who helped bring it all to life (publishing companies and movie studios, etc.), while the song on which I’ve loosely based the story belongs to Christina Perri and her recording company (Jar of Hearts). 
> 
> This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. If you see one, please let me know.
> 
> Canon-compliant, up to the epilogue. I normally save one or more of those who died in the course of the war in my stories, but I can think of no reason to do so for this one, so anyone who died is dead. Of course, I am futzing with Jo’s ships, and Ron/Hermione may not be the only one… We’ll see what else happens as I’m writing.
> 
> Warning: This is endgame Minerva/Hermione, but that’s endgame. To start, Hermione, who is bisexual, will be with a man, and there will be a certain amount of smut present for both relationships. That means there is both straight and lesbian sex in this story, although I’ll try not to be too graphic, so if either is out of your comfort zone and not what you want to read, please go ahead and close this out before you get too deep into things. Thanks.
> 
> Extra note: This story is a WIP that I’ve been sitting on for some time. I haven’t actively worked on it in over a year. What is written is exclusively focused on the straight sideship that leads to the MMHG goodness that was to happen later on. I don’t have any idea when I might come back to write more than I currently have, but feel free to follow for when I do. My main focus at this point, writing-wise, is still She Who Turns Time, and I don’t see that changing until a large portion of the remaining story is done. Enjoy this.

It started so easy, or so it felt at the time. She’d always known she was attracted to those outside her own age group and to those who had power. How else could her second-year crush on Lockhart be explained? She had quite a bit of power herself, though she hadn’t always, and now that she did, she just couldn’t imagine herself with anyone lacking in this indefinable aura. As for the age thing, she found that age brought experience and knowledge which could be shared with her, and nothing attracted Hermione Granger more than _learning_.

Her heart was heavy as she pondered these things, realizing that the two things that most attracted her to other people were sadly lacking in the man with whom she had finally begun to form a romantic relationship, after such a long time spent dancing around each other.

She knew Ron had his strengths; she would never have become his friend, troll or no troll, if he hadn’t, but his fickle weaknesses had reared their heads all too often in times of stress and need, and once the spectre of death and war had been removed from their lives, she found she just couldn’t look past it all any longer. Stammering and scratching at his head, he agreed that while he did love her as a friend, she just wasn’t what he wanted, either.

Soon after, she was approached by a penitent Draco Malfoy, who invited her over for dinner to talk and to apologize for all the ways in which he’d been such a little shit during their school years. She agreed, not thinking for once about all the reasons she should refuse him.

She tried to tame her wild mane, cursed and spit at its stubbornness, then finally gave in and let it wreath her head like a crazy brown halo. A minimum of nice makeup done the right way, and in contrast to her hair, she wore a sleek little black dress, sleeveless, scoop necked, and fitted to the waist, where it flared slightly into a knee-length skirt that would flutter just a bit with every step she took in three-inch stiletto heels, the color that as a child growing up as a Muggle, she'd called "fire-engine red."

She smiled thinking back on that phrase, knowing that none of her magical friends would understand the reference. If there was a fire in the wizarding world, everyone banded together and cast multiple _Aguamenti_ charms to douse the flames, apparating in and out to retrieve those trapped within.

He showed up at her parents’ house, and tactfully didn’t ask about its slightly run-down façade, its Muggle neighborhood, or her lack of parents. He did compliment her on her own appearance, though, and offered his arm for side-along apparation.

In retrospect, she should have expected it, because after all, she was going to dinner with a Malfoy, but when they’d reappeared in the entrance hall at Malfoy Manor, she’d felt a queasiness begin to build. She swallowed it down, assured him that she was fine, and was escorted down the hall, nausea growing with every step. As they approached a familiar door, her stomach gave a sickening lurch, and it was all she could do to keep the meager contents of her stomach down. It took all of her concentration, and as such, her feet kept going, mindlessly following Draco’s lead. They stepped out of the hall into the drawing room, and memories of Bellatrix washed over her in a flood, causing her stomach to finally expel its contents all over Draco’s expensive shoes. She fell to her knees in the aftermath, tears streaming from her tightly closed eyes, and Draco jumped away, shocked and trying to avoid getting anything else on his shoes.

“Draco! What in the world were you thinking?” Narcissa rushed over, vanishing the sick perfunctorily and trying to scoop the trembling girl into her arms. Hermione skittered away from her touch, backing up to the wall, her hands scrabbling to grip the baseboard. Her shallow breathing combined with the adrenaline of the post-traumatic panic attack was beginning to cause spots to dance along the inside of her eyelids, and the blood rushing through her head rendered her all but deaf, cutting her off from the conversation going on around her.

“I told you to bring her into the smaller sitting room, and we would join you momentarily. Don’t you remember what happened to the poor girl in here?”

He shouted, “Of course I remember! I can’t bloody forget! It’s part of why I brought her here tonight; to apologize for that amongst all the other many wrongs we’ve committed against her over the years.” Draco’s voice quieted as he continued. “More than you, I have treated her horribly, calling her names and belittling her at every turn, not to mention the physical attacks. I was so sure we were in the right, but … we weren’t. And I wanted to tell her that I know that I was stupid and wrong, and to beg for forgiveness.” He sighed. “I just didn’t think before bringing her in here. It’s one more in a long line of offenses I’ve offered her since we met.”

“We were all caught up in the mores of our upbringing, son, and convinced of our superiority. She, more than the rest, has shown many of the Dark Lord’s followers just how wrong we all were. And she needs to know that, but here and now may not be just the right time.” Narcissa ran a well-manicured hand through the fringe of her bangs and over the top of her head, unsettling the long strands of black and blonde.

Standing back and watching and listening to his family, was Lucius. Silvery eyes assessed the girl who was huddled, shivering and shaking, against the wall of his drawing room. Dismissing his wife and son from his attention, he took slow, soft, silent steps toward the girl, focusing solely on her, and noticed that where she had jumped immediately away from Narcissa, she was showing no reaction at all to his approach.

He came up to her side and crouched low to the ground, his hand trailing against the wall, fingers trailing along the expensive fabric which papered it to help maintain his balance.

“Miss Granger?” His voice was low and soft and completely calm, speaking the way he would to an unfamiliar horse when he was allowing it to get to know him.

Her eyes shot open and zeroed in on his, her breath coming jagged and harsh. She had never seen eyes like his before, not this close. They were dark silver-grey; almost the shade her father used to call ‘gunmetal,’ but with an inner and outer ring that was brighter, more like a bright new sickle.

That aura which had always been missing from Ron was found here in abundance, and it was filled with such serenity that she could do nothing except begin to calm down, her breaths evening themselves out slowly. He was speaking, but she could make no words from any of the sounds, only responding along with his aura to the pleading in his eyes for her to come back to herself and to leave the horror of the past back there where it belonged.

Slowly, the images of dark, curly hair faded to the platinum tresses framing his face. The sounds of high-pitched cackling laughter gave way to his deep, pleasant tones, words finally forming in the nonsense. “Yes, that’s right. Calm down. Come back. She is no longer here, and she never will be again. You are safe. You are warm. She can’t ever hurt you again. Breathe slowly, Miss Granger. Yes, that’s right. Soft and calm and slow. You’re doing wonderfully. Come back.”

Twisted lips and rotting teeth disappeared from her eyes, replaced with pale, full lips moving gently as he spoke, perfectly straight and blindingly white teeth peeking from behind them as they moved.

After her experiences of the previous year, she didn’t much care to be touched, but where her hand gripped the baseboard between them, she could feel his large hand softly resting on hers, his thumb tracing a random pattern of swirls on its back. It was comforting somehow, and she finally fully returned to herself, her eyes focused on his mouth.

“They’re so straight. I doubt he ever needed braces.”

“Braces, Miss Granger? The metal contraptions they put on the teeth of Muggle youth? No, I never had need of those, nor of the spells we use in their place when necessary. Have you come back from the past now, then?”

Her face filled with color as she realized that she’d spoken aloud. “I believe I’m over the worst now, Mister Malfoy, thank you.” She refrained from mentioning his teeth again, though she did have a few questions about the Wizarding dentistry process.

“Do you think you can stand? We can retire to a different room; one without quite so many negative memories for you.” His eyes hardened for a split second and flashed toward his son, still arguing with Narcissa, before returning to meet hers. “My apologies, by the way. We did tell him not to bring you in here, but once again, he just didn’t stop to think of the ramifications of his actions.”

“It’s not his fault that it happened or that I haven’t had time to properly deal with the experience yet. I think I can stand, and yes, I would appreciate being … elsewhere.”

“If you would just take my hands then…” He took hold of the one hand already in his grip, and reached to take the other as well. Bracing his feet, he began to push upward, slowly rising and pulling her with him. She kept her eyes on his as they stood, mesmerized with the way the light played across his multi-hued irises and how they contrasted with the dark pupil, a mere pinprick in the center betraying his concentration as he helped her up.

When they reached their full heights, her knees locked and she stumbled against him. On her way back down, he swept her up quickly and with ease, one arm around her back and the other beneath her weak and faulty knees. He could hear Draco and Narcissa still arguing in the background, and sighed before calling out that he was taking her home. “ _Dinner and apologies be damned,_ ” he thought, “ _She needs to be home where she can recover in safety._ ”

With a still soft voice, he urged her to relax against him if she could, feeling as she slowly did so, arms tentatively reaching up to loop around his neck and shoulders. A few long strides later, he was at the front apparation spot – for safety reasons, there were only a few locations within the house where the anti-apparation wards were dropped, and there only for family members and their guests.

He closed his eyes, breathed in, and without a sound to mark the passage, he disapparated, appearing a moment later behind her house. “How did you…?”

His grip on her tightened and his body tensed up. “As things turn out, you were wise to remove your parents from their home, Miss Granger. When you three didn’t show up for school, this was the first place we were sent to look for you. He was most upset when it appeared abandoned and there were no signs that you had ever lived here. Potter’s Muggle relatives in Surrey being gone as well further distressed him, but he had wanted to make a special example of you and your parents.”

“You were one of those who partially destroyed it, then?”

“I was here, but no. That was someone else having a temper tantrum.” After her reaction to the drawing room where Bellatrix had tortured her, Lucius refused to tell her that was who had done all the damage. “And as to how I knew you were living here and not elsewhere, Draco mentioned where he was going to pick you up tonight.”

There was silence between them for a long moment as they ruminated on their conversation, broken finally by his still low, calm voice. “Where shall I take you, Miss Granger?”

Acutely aware that he was still holding her, she inhaled sharply and replied, “I think, actually, that I may be able to stand now, if you’d care to put me down.”

“I think that’s unwise. I would rather take you inside first, so that if your legs are still unable to bear your weight, there’s a sofa or something else soft close enough in case my reflexes are not so quick this time. Your garden is mostly comprised of gravel instead of grass, and I could not, in good conscience, allow you to injure yourself on my watch.”

Her face colored slightly, thinking of Lucius Malfoy being inside her house – her Muggle house – before remembering that he had been inside before. She silently incanted the password for her wards and felt as they shimmered to allow them access. “Through the door, please, and up the stairs. I’m sure my legs will hold me this time, but just in case, I’d prefer to be close enough to just go to bed and sleep this off.”

“Of course.” He, too, had felt the shimmer of her wards accepting him as an allowed visitor, and as they approached the back door, he silently flexed his magic and watched as the door swung open to admit them into the kitchen. Another silent flex, and it closed quietly behind them. He was aware as he strode toward the stairs of her breath puffing warmly against his neck and her heart beating more quickly against his arm where it rested along her back.

Climbing the stairs, he felt her breath hitch for a split second when her fingers idly twisted a long lock of his hair between them. He sighed lightly, always having enjoyed having his hair toyed with, and at the quiet sound, she dropped the strand as though it burned her fingers, and the rhythm of her heart sped up against his arm.

There was something going on. It was something he was all-too familiar with, and something he would be willing to explore under more favorable circumstances, but tonight was not the night for such things. At the top of the staircase, he stopped, unsure which door was hers.

“It’s the last door on the left,” she nearly whispered, answering a question he’d yet to ask.

Another flex of magic had the door opened when he reached it, and he stepped with her into a room he wouldn’t have imagined was hers. It was decorated in dark cherry woods with deep jewel tones used as accents, Carmine blending nearly seamlessly with Hunter. He had thought to see a bedroom done in whites and pastels, but the darker palette was more pleasing to his eye than the brighter tones would have been.

He crossed to a high, plush bed, and bent slightly, slowly pulling his arm from beneath her knees, enjoying the feel of her silken skin as his hand swept across it. Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she tested her legs, her body sliding against his as he straightened and her knees held. She waited a second longer than was proper to let go, topaz eyes drowning in silver.

“Thank you, Mister Malfoy, for everything. I believe I’ll be just fine now.” She finally forced herself to pull her hands away, and they fell useless to her sides.

“It was nothing, Miss Granger. I am only sorry that a visit to my home precipitated such a state of affairs. There is much that I regret about my participation in the war, and that one so lovely as you was so grievously injured in my own home … I can never hope to be able to make reparations. The Malfoy family owes you a debt, payable whenever and however you deem fit. For my part, I owe you another debt of my own. If you ever need anything, and I do mean _anything_ , Miss Granger, please don’t hesitate to ask. If it is within my power to grant – and there isn’t much that is not – you shall have it.”

She felt the hum of magic behind his debt oath, and she knew that his statements were magically binding.

“I can think of nothing I need right now, Mister Malfoy, apart from a good night’s rest, but I promise that if that changes, I shall let you know.”

He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to its back before releasing it and taking a step back. “Lucius, please. I have enough people to call me Mister Malfoy.”

“If you insist, Lucius, but then you must call me Hermione.”

“Of course. Good night, Hermione. I wish you a restful night’s sleep, unhaunted by spectres of the past. I can make my own way out.” He bowed lightly from the waist and turned to leave.

“Good night … Lucius.”

She stood unmoving until she felt the wards shimmer with his exit, at which time her knees finally gave back out and she collapsed into the bed, lucid only long enough to banish her clothing and crawl beneath the thick duvet before succumbing to sleep, deep and troubled by memories of Bellatrix despite Lucius’ best well-wishes.


	2. Chapter Two

In the months that passed next, Hermione spoke with several of her former Professors at Hogwarts, now led by Minerva McGonagall, and set about working out her final year of education on an independent-study basis. Her nerves still couldn't handle being around so many people at once for too long, and full-time life inside the castle would have been unbearable. Instead, she visited the school two days a week, working through her practical lessons in the evenings after the teachers were finished with their regular classes, and doing all her research and theoretical work from home.

She spent Christmas at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Ginny and George, who was temporarily staying with Harry, unable to enter the flat he'd shared with Fred just yet, and at the same time incapable of facing the Burrow where they'd grown up together. He was trying to put up a front of playfulness and mischief, the way people expected, but without Fred, he was broken and incomplete.

In a drunken stupor on New Year's Eve, he tried to make a pass at Hermione, and in other circumstances, she might have given in and allowed it, but the memory of her brief time being carried in Lucius' arms had soured her on the thought of anyone else for a while.

She knew better than to be attracted to a married man – a former Death Eater who had only barely escaped being sent to Azkaban for life, at that – but his hair, his eyes, those perfect teeth, and the hard muscles she'd felt moving beneath his shirt had captivated her just as surely as his words and demeanor had. She didn't want to want him, but she did.

She had a short lunch with Draco one day, in a public place this time, and they ironed out their differences. They would never be great friends, but neither would they be enemies. They had both grown up too much, too quickly to hold on to childhood grudges. Neither had the energy to devote to the enmity that had formed their relationship before.

She didn't dare bring up Lucius, but he did, only briefly, when he apologized for taking her into the drawing room. He told her that he and Narcissa had stood there arguing for at least half an hour before realizing that she and Lucius were gone, and they'd worried for a moment before he reappeared to let them know what had happened.

She later laughed, remembering the look on Draco's face as he'd told the story. He was clearly a Malfoy, was Draco, sharing several facial features with his father, but he was just as clearly a member of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, having inherited a few key features from his mother and her sister. The Black additions were unkind to him, she thought, having had so much time to analyze Lucius' that night. He would never be as handsome as his father, nor as cruelly beautiful as Bellatrix and Narcissa must have been in their youth. But he wasn't completely unpleasant to look at, either. She could see where this man who had taken the place of the boy she'd known in school would make someone – not her – a fine partner in life.

She saw Lucius a time or two from a distance, out in Diagon Alley, and once at the Ministry when she'd been ironing out the details for her exam schedules. They weren't close enough to each other to warrant speaking, but their eyes met across the distance, and her heart sped up at the brief contact.

The day her exams were over, she packed a bag and disappeared to Australia to try and find her parents while the results were tallied. She knew them well, and found them without much struggle.

However, when she tried to remove her memory charms, something went wrong, and instead of their locked memories being restored, the counter-charm removed them, as well as all memories of their current and past lives. They were left in a state worse than the Longbottoms, unable to walk or talk or control their bodily functions, in what the Healers at the Australian Magical Hospital called "Tabula Rasa Perfecte." They were essentially newborns in the bodies of two people in their late fifties. Certain things would be able to be learned again – speech and mobility and such – but they would never again remember their previous lives.

They were placed in a facility that could slowly teach them the things they would need to survive and could care for them in the meantime, and Hermione took the next International Portkey back to London.

Through his positions at the British Ministry, Lucius found out what had happened and that she was on her way home. He was torn – he wanted to go and offer comfort, but he didn't know if he would be welcome. However, when three days passed and nobody had heard from her, he made up his mind and apparated to her back garden, just as he had with her in his arms nearly a year earlier.

With a shock, he realized that the wards still recognized him as an allowed visitor, and he stepped into the kitchen unhampered. He called out for her, but received no answer. He looked briefly into every room on the ground floor, not expecting to see her in the dining room or the living room, but the library on the other side of the house was a likely place if her past was any indication. It was empty as well, however, and so he nervously crept up the stairs to the bedrooms. He checked her room first, and found it empty as well, but the bed was mussed and there were various articles of clothing strewn across the floor.

His brows furrowed and he twisted his lips to one side in worried thought. The connecting door led into a bathroom, still steamy from a hot shower, and scented with her shampoo and soap. The also-empty guest bedroom was on the other side of the bathroom, and showed no signs of having been disturbed. Back out in the hallway, he was left with just one door, on the right instead of the left: her parents' room.

He gently eased the door open and saw her crumpled in the middle of their bed, sobbing weakly. She was wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, and her damp hair was spread around her wildly. He still wasn't sure of his welcome, but he couldn't leave her like this. He discarded his cloak and outer robes and toed his shoes off, leaving them all together in a bundle on the floor by the door, his wand resting on top.

He crossed quickly to the bed and eased himself behind her, pulling her to him, careful not to tug at her hair as he lay down and wrapped himself around her comfortingly.

Through her sobbing, she smelled the spicy scent of his cologne and relaxed against him. "Lucius?"

"I'm here, my sweet. I worried for you and came to check on you." His hands smoothed the hair from her face and he placed a gentle kiss against her temple. "Get it all out, I'm here for you."

She turned into him, clutched at his shirt, and let go. Her sobs grew in intensity, and she babbled on insensibly.

"I ruined them."

"It's all my fault."

"What have I done?"

All the while, he held her tightly to him, running his fingers through her hair and mumbling comfortingly against her temple, peppering his remarks with tiny kisses.

"You did no such thing."

"Darling, it's nobody's fault."

"You saved their lives. There's no way you could have known."

On and on it went, her pouring out her grief and him offering the simple comfort of human warmth and touch. Eventually she ran out of steam and fell into an exhausted slumber, fists still tightly clenching to his shirt.

Concentrating fully, he levitated them a few inches and forced the covers back before allowing them to fall gently back to rest on top of the sheet, reaching to pull the retracted covers over them. Doing non-verbal magic at that level wandlessly drained him considerably, and he followed her into sleep only a moment later.

Hours later, he was roused from sleep by tentatively exploring fingers tracing along his hairline, moving up his jaw, then tickling their way over his lips. He forced himself not to move or respond, not wanting to interrupt her quest, but when her fingers were replaced by soft lips, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, he couldn't help himself.

He gently moved with her, deepening the kiss after a minute, and when their tongues met for the first time, he couldn't hold back a moan at how sweet she tasted. The kiss went on, his hand reaching up to cradle her jaw, thumb tracing rhythmically over her prominent cheekbone.

When her fingers started working the buttons of his shirt open, he pulled back, eyes opening to search hers. "Hermione?"

"Please, Lucius…"

"Are you sure?"

Her gaze left his eyes and moved down to his slightly swollen lips. "I have never been more certain of anything in my life."

With that, their lips crashed back together, and both sets of hands picked up a frenzied pace undoing the fasteners on his clothes, his fingers moving quickly through the buttons on his shirt while hers lowered to open the buttons holding his trousers closed. She reached through the open fly to grasp at his velvety length, and he hissed against her mouth at the sensation. "Bugger this," he growled, and with a burst of wandless, non-verbal magic, his power flexed and his clothes were banished across the room along with her robe, leaving nothing between them but skin and a tiny sliver of air.

Turning them deftly, he settled himself between her thighs, reaching down to make sure she was ready. "Merlin but you're wet." He spread some of the natural lubricant around, jaw working itself together as her lips attached to a tender part of his neck.

"Are you ready, my sweet? Because I don't think I can hold back any longer." His eyes were tightly closed from the strain of waiting.

Leaving his reddened neck behind with a pop, she moved up to lick the shell of his ear before whispering into it, "Fuck me, Lucius. Fuck me now."

He needed no further encouragement.


	3. Chapter Three

Much to her delighted surprise, he needed very little recovery time, and he wasn't averse to helping her by using his oh-so-talented fingers as well as his tongue in the little time he did need, keeping her hurtling over the cliffs of pleasure again and again as the night grew darker and the hour grew later.

Finally, as they lay next to each other, sated, panting and soaked with sweat and other fluids, he turned his head and caught a glimpse of the clock. "As much as I'd love to stay and continue, I really should be getting home." He sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to straighten out his hair with his fingers.

In a rush, she remembered. Narcissa. Draco. "Oh. Right. Oh, gods. What have we done?"

"As I recall, darling, we had fun together." He turned back to her, leaning over to kiss her neck, laving his tongue gently over a particularly dark love-bite he'd left. "Do you need me to stay? I don't mind," a wicked look glinting from his eye, "whatsoever, but I do need to let somebody know where I am so nobody worries."

"Let … somebody … Lucius, you're married! To a perfectly lovely woman! With whom you have a son my age! How can you be so flippant?" Her body was flushing with her anger, and inwardly, Lucius thought she looked even more beautiful than before.

"Well, like I said, I don't want her to worry if I don't come home. There are still people who hold my past against me, Hermione, and it would be irresponsible to just disappear overnight without letting her know." His brow furrowed in confusion as her body flushed darker, signaling her increased ire. Then things clicked, and he sat up, throwing his head back in rich, full laughter.

"Merlin, Hermione, you don't think we have that kind of marriage, do you?"

She was well and truly angry by then, his laughter not helping at all, and she sat up quickly, snatching at the blanket to cover herself.

Seeing her anger continuing to grow, he stopped laughing and looked at her seriously. "We were an arranged marriage, my sweet, and I was originally supposed to marry Andromeda, who was a year closer to my age than Narcissa, but when she ran off with Ted Tonks, I was passed down to Narcissa to cement the alliance of the two houses. We get along well enough, but we were only ever faithful to each other long enough to secure the line. After Draco was born, we both agreed to see whoever we want, as long as we're discreet in public and open with each other about it. We've done nothing wrong here, darling."

"It feels wrong."

"Did it feel wrong before I reminded you that she exists?"

"…No."

"Then how is it wrong now? Don't be such a hypocrite, Hermione. Honestly."

"I think you should leave now."

"Oh, very well." He stood and began pulling his clothes back on. "Listen, before I go, is there anything I can do for you? Other than the obvious, of course." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No, I don't need anything from …" Her voice trailed off as she remembered why she'd been in the state she was when he'd found her. "I need money. Not for … not for this, but you said last year that your family owed me a debt for what happened in your drawing room. The care my parents need is more than I can possibly afford to pay, and I know it would be just a Knut in a bucket for you, so I'm cashing in my family debt. I'd like them moved back to England from Australia, and for their care and treatments to be fully paid for."

He frowned. "You need not cash in the family debt for that, Hermione. I would gladly take care of that for you anyway."

"I refuse to feel beholden to you in any way. I'm calling in the debt your family owes me." There was strength and conviction in her voice, and they both felt as the magic washed over them.

"Very well then, I'll take care of it first thing in the morning. I just need to know where they are and under what names I shall find them."

"They are still living under their assumed names of Wendell and Monica Wilkins in Brisbane, and to help avoid the publicity and complications down the road, I'd like to leave them with those names when they return."

"I wish you would reconsider making this the debt reparation," he said with a clenched jaw. "I don't want this," he motioned to the two of them, "to be a one-time occurrence, and I would pay to help your parents anyway."

"I believe you would, Lucius, I do, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that was hanging over my head. I won't be a kept woman, and if this continues, I don't want it to be because I feel obligated because of what you do for them."

"Fine. I'll let you know where they are once the details are all ironed out and they're settled in." He pulled his outer robe on and swung his heavy cloak over the top of everything. Slipping back into his shoes, he was every bit the imposing figure he ever was in public, but for his slightly mussed hair.

Reaching for her robe, Hermione stood and wrapped it around her, tying it at the waist before making her way to where he stood at the doorway. "I … I don't know if I can accept a relationship with you the way you've laid things out, Lucius, but I will think on it if you can give me some time." She reached to smooth his hair back down, restoring the natural order of things. "Thank you, though, for coming to check on me, for offering me comfort and a shirt to cry on," she smiled crookedly, tugging at his collar, "and for the rest, as well.

"I promise to make a public appearance tomorrow so nobody else worries about me, and… could you please let me know when my parents are back home?"

"You're welcome to all my caring, to all my comfort, and to every shirt I own if you ever need another one to cry on. And if you decide you want the rest, too, you have only to say the word, and I am yours." He leaned down to place a gentle kiss at the corner of her mouth. "Your parents should be here by the end of the week. You'll know everything as soon as I do."

As his hand reached for the doorknob, a large silvery fish that Hermione recognized as a Japanese Koi burst through the wall into the room. "Lucius, it is nearly midnight and you are not home. Please let me know you are okay. If I do not see or hear from you within the hour, I am calling in the Aurors." Narcissa's worry-filled voice filled the room before the Patronus dissipated into vapor.

He sighed. "I knew she'd be worried. Let me just take care of this and then we'll say our goodbyes." He waved his wand in concentric circles and clearly stated the incantation, " _Expecto Patronum!_ " A burst of light quickly formed itself into a large, preening peacock, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle. He glared at her for a second before speaking to the image, "I'm fine, Cissy, and will be home within fifteen minutes. Don't call in the Cavalry just yet." He instructed it to take the message to Narcissa, and with a flourish of feathers, it was gone into the night.

"Are you going to make fun of my Patronus' form as well?"

She giggled again at the righteous indignation in his tone. "Nope. Not me. Would I do a thing like that?"

He glared at her again, flatly. "My history with swotty Gryffindors tells me yes."

"Your history with  _other_  swotty Gryffindors, perhaps, but not with  _this_  swotty Gryffindor."

"Mm, I see your point. I don't actually know you as well as I should. Hopefully I get the opportunity to rectify the situation. I do know how fond I am of the parts of you I have gotten to know." His eyes raked down her barely clothed form and the flush that had finally begun to ebb as her anger had disappeared returned with a vengeance.

"Oh, get out of here and go home." She swatted at his arse.

"If you insist, though it's not too late…"

"Yes it is. Go home, Lucius."

He sighed. "Good night, Hermione."

"Good night."

He leaned in and placed another soft kiss on the other corner of her mouth. "Until the next time."

"You presume too much, sir."

"Is it presumption if I'm certain?" He grinned widely, his right cheek rising higher than the left in a sinfully crooked smile, and her damnably weak knees threatened to give out on her again. He swooped in, kissed her to within an inch of sanity, and took advantage of her foolish grin to finally duck through the door and leave.

Heading back into her own bedroom, where there were clean sheets, she murmured a cleaning spell over herself and curled up in her bed, falling into happily sated, truly exhausted sleep, fuelled by their hours of amorous activities and the emotional fatigue she'd already been suffering when he'd arrived.

Two weeks later, she received an owl from him, letting her know that Wendell and Monica Wilkins had been settled into a suitable facility in London, and she was on the approved visitor list for both of them.

She hadn't seen or heard from him since that night, and she supposed he was giving her the space she needed to work through things, but she was itching for him, and she wished there was something more personal to the note than just the perfunctory business letter she'd received.

Her NEWT scores had come in the day before, and she was pleased to see a full round of Os, with percentages significantly higher than one hundred in many cases. With these scores and the prestige attached to her name in the aftermath of the war with Voldemort, there wasn't a job she couldn't get, even with her blood status. She wanted to pursue a Mastery in something, but she was having a hard time deciding between Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy, and she knew that while she worked on her upper education, she would need to find work to support herself.

She received a fairly small stipend from the Ministry with her Order of Merlin, First Class, and she lived frugally in her parents' house, which had been paid off years earlier, but the Mastery was set to be a huge expense that she just couldn't afford without working.

The first time she went to visit her parents, she was surprised by their accommodations. The facility was a high-end private home with every modern amenity that still managed to maintain full functionality as a place for those who were mentally and/or physically incapable of living on their own.

The nurse who showed her up, Nadia, was about ten years older than Hermione, and had wide violet eyes and long hair so dark that the black shone blue in the right light. She left Hermione at the door to her parents' suite of rooms with a wink, which startled Hermione just a bit, setting her enough on edge that when she walked in to see her infantile parents babbling incoherently at Lucius, who was listening to them as intently as one would listen to their child, it caused her to burst into tears.

He rushed to her, tucking her into his side comfortingly, and her arms wrapped around his chest tightly. "Come now," he whispered softly, "Let's not upset them. Come into the hall, my sweet."

She allowed herself to be led out into the corridor, where he lifted her wet face to look at him. "Why the tears?"

She hiccupped softly before responding, "It just hit me when I walked in to see them with you that I started this whole thing to keep them away from you and Voldemort, and now that he's gone, you're the one responsible for bringing them back to me. The irony's too much."

At this, he burst into loud, raucous laughter, shocking her tears away. "What's so funny?"

"Just you, my sweet darling. Go and have your visit and I'll be here waiting for you when you're finished."

She looked at him curiously, but did as he said. She didn't stay long; it was too hard to look at them the way they were, and when she came out, he was waiting patiently for her, just as he said he would.

"Tea? Coffee?"

"Oh, gods. Coffee sounds divine." She had quickly become addicted to coffee following the war. Sleep brought about painful memories, flashbacks of time spent with the Horcruces and of the torture Bellatrix had wrought, and so she learned to make strong coffee at home to put sleep off as long as possible. When it was finally absolutely necessary, she would take a dreamless sleep potion, and then when she woke, it was back to the coffee. The strong home-brew was good, but nothing compared to what she could get from the corner coffeeshops that were beginning to crop up all over the city. It was one of these wonderful coffee confections she was currently craving, the stress of seeing her parents again warning her that dreams tonight would be of the sort that couldn't be put off, even with the help of dreamless sleep. Better to just stay awake as long as she could.

"Let's go then, if you're ready."

"I think I am for now. Thank you, Lucius, for getting them in somewhere so nice. I never expected this."

He folded her arm around his and they made their way through the building toward the exit. "I never do anything by halves, Hermione. They deserve the best care they can get, and luckily for you and for them, the best they can get is the best anyone can get. It's a Wizarding facility, but it's blanketed with strong anti-magic and anti-apparation wards to keep patients from blowing themselves or others up and to keep them from disappearing. Once we pass the front desk, however, we should have special dispensation to pop out and then we'll go get your coffee."

"Coffee…" Her voice was wistful at the thought of a hot, caffeinated beverage.

He chuckled at her response to the idea of coffee. When they passed the front desk and Nurse Nadia winked at Hermione again, his eyes narrowed at her, pulling Hermione closer in to his side in a clear gesture of MINE, causing her to gulp quietly.

Over coffee and almond biscotti, they were discussing Hermione's NEWT scores and her future options, when she brought up the conundrum of what she wanted to study and how she was going to support herself while doing so.

"Come work for me."

It was her turn to narrow her eyes at him, making him chuckle again.

"It has nothing to do with whether or not we continue our liaison. I would be pursuing you as an employee anyway, Hermione, with these scores. You would languish in the Ministry and you would come to hate yourself and everyone around you if you were mired in its bureaucracy and red tape. Come work for Malfoy Laboratories. I have a research department for each of the fields you mentioned, and any of them would benefit from your being there. Best of all, we employ multiple Masters of their fields, any of whom would be thrilled beyond measure to have you as an Apprentice. And as an ML employee, any Mastery you pursue will be paid for in full, provided you sign a contract stating that you will remain with the company for at least four years after your Mastery is completed."

Her mouth gaped open and closed, mimicking nothing so much as a fish out of water, shocked at the offer, and hoping he was being truthful about keeping the offer open regardless of her decision about their personal relationship.

"It really does solve nearly all your problems, you know, so you should just accept. The only thing left to decide is which discipline best suits you." He sat back and sipped at his coffee, calmly waiting for her to say yes. Any other response would have been highly illogical, and logic was one thing Hermione Granger had in abundance.

"You're sure this has nothing to do with…"

He sighed and cut her off. "Hermione, as much as I would dearly love to continue having carnal relations with you, that decision in no way impacts this one. However," he smirked, "if you should choose to say yes to both questions, I will in no way prevent you from doing so."

"You…" She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes. To the work question, in any case. I haven't yet decided on the other."

"Wonderful! I'll have the contracts drawn up and ready for you to review as soon as you know which path you choose."

"Which one would you choose, if you were me?"

He stopped to think for a moment, dipping his biscotti into the bitter brew in his cup. "You're brilliant no matter which way you go, and based on what Severus always had to say about you in private, I'd always thought you would go for Potions, but as you've only mentioned Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy, I would suggest Arithmancy. You have a cool logical mind, are keen on all aspects of book research, and exceedingly powerful when it comes to the practical portions of spell-work. You would honestly do well in any of the three, but based on what I know of you, that's my suggestion." The sodden end of the hard cookie went into his mouth, and his eyes closed at the magnificent explosion of flavor.

She was shocked to hear his praise of her abilities, as well as the second-hand knowledge that Professor Snape had thought she was talented enough in Potions to have pursued a Mastery in it. She had little interest in the subject beyond what she'd learned in school and its more practical applications in day-to-day life – hangover relief potions, headache cures, and the monthly menstrual cramp relievers that were a godsend compared to what the Muggle world offered – however, it felt good to know that Snape had acknowledged her in some positive way.

"That's been the one I was leaning most toward, but I'm just not sure."

"Well, take your time, my sweet. You have as much as you need."

Two weeks later, she walked into the gleaming lobby of Malfoy Laboratories, ready for her first day in the Arithmancy department. She would be working and apprenticing under Master Glenn Ashmole, one of the foremost experts in the field, and long-time employee of ML.

A month after that, she took an afternoon and went to visit Narcissa, knowing Lucius would still be at work, and discussed the situation with her. The youngest Black sister seemed surprised that Lucius had made Hermione an offer, but confirmed what he'd told her. They did not have a traditional marriage, and would have long ago have divorced if it was possible. Narcissa was fond of Lucius as a person, and was happy to be married to him, but she'd had a long string of lovers, as had Lucius since Draco had been born. Hermione was surprised at Narcissa's candor regarding the fact that she, unlike Lucius, did not discriminate her bed partners based on gender, but found that it didn't bother her at all; rather, she saw a bit of that openness reflected in herself.

And so, with a good handle on every other aspect of her life, she gave in to his not-so-subtle and oft-repeated flirtations and told Lucius yes to his other proposition. It was so easy to give in, and the things they got up to in the bedroom were well worth each and every rumor going around the Labs. It was the most closely-guarded not-secret in the history of the company.

Three months after it started, heading off the rumor mill, she finally told Harry and Ginny just who it was keeping the perpetual smile on her face. Harry was shocked, but overall accepting, only wanting her to be happy, but Ginny stormed out of the room, unwilling to listen to anything else after Hermione said his name.

She ranted and raved and screamed and yelled, "How COULD you?! After what he did to me when I was eleven! The year of HELL that I went through because of Voldemort's bloody fucking Horcrux diary was all HIS FAULT and now you're shagging him for his money?"

The loud slap echoed through Grimmauld Place, and Harry could hear from the other room as Hermione's voice hissed angrily, "Are we sleeping together? Yes. Are we fucking and shagging and snogging and doing everything you and Harry do together? Yes. Am I doing a gods-damned bloody bit of it for his money? NO, and I'm insulted that you would think so little of me."

"Is he, or is he not the one paying for that expensive place your parents are in?" Ginny looked smug as she hit at her friend with her best shot.

"He is, but it has nothing to do with that. He started that before … well before we started a regular relationship." Ginny glared at her, knowingly, and Hermione sighed, sinking into a nearby sofa. "He owed me a family debt, Gin, and I called it in to save my family."

Ginny looked incredulous. "A family debt. How in Merlin's name did he owe you a family debt?" What she left out of her question was, " _…and didn't feel he owed one to me?_ "

"Because of what happened in his house with Bellatrix after the Snatchers got us. When Dobby was killed. He had to stand there and watch it happen or risk Voldemort killing his wife and child when he found out, and so he told me he owed me a family debt for their part in my torture."

"You don't have to sleep with him to satisfy that." She was still peeved at her friend's choice of lover, and wasn't going to give in easily.

"Our sleeping together has nothing to do with the debt or with his family or mine, Gin. I told you that already."

"He's married."

Hermione winced as she replied, expecting the redhead's response to her next revelation. "And she knows."

"WHAT?"

Hermione sighed. "It's not my place to tell their family business, Gin, but they don't love each other and they never have, and they allow each other the freedom to be with who they want, as long as it's kept discreet and they keep each other notified as to who the other party is. It's not like I'm going over for family dinners, I mean,  _Merlin_ , but it's all very civilized and she knows and we're doing nothing wrong."

"That's what he wants you to think. He's married. He can never, ever get a divorce under Wizarding law. You will  _always_  be the mistress, Hermione, and nobody deserves that."

"Maybe I do deserve better circumstances, but right now, he's who and what I want, and if I learned anything from Voldemort and the war, it's to live my life the way I want it because tomorrow may never come."

Ginny threw her hands up and collapsed onto the sofa next to Hermione. "Fine. FINE! But I don't want to hear any sordid details. …Except, um," her eyes shifted nervously, "is he really as good as they say?"

The stupid grin on her face must have said it all. "Oh, yes."

"Good gods."

"How Narcissa ever was able to give him up, I'll never know."

"Ugh. Too far, Hermione. Too much information."

"Are we okay?" Hermione bumped her shoulder against Ginny's affectionately.

"Yeah, we're okay. I just think you deserve better."

Neither woman knew just how right Ginny was.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Reviews are always welcome.


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